MRS. CLANDON. I have thought of you all these eighteen years with the beard and the sombrero. (She sits down on the garden seat. McComas takes his chair again.) Do you go to the meetings of the Dialectical Society still? McCOMAS (gravely). I do not frequent meetings now. MRS. CLANDON. Finch: I see what has happened. You have become respectable. McCOMAS. Haven't you? MRS. CLANDON. Not a bit. McCOMAS. You hold to your old opinions still? MRS. CLANDON. As firmly as ever. McCOMAS. Bless me! And you are still ready to make speeches in public, in spite of your sex (Mrs. Clandon nods); to insist on a married woman's right to her own separate property (she nods again); to champion Darwin's view of the origin of species and John Stuart Mill's essay on Liberty (nod); to read Huxley, Tyndall and George Eliot (three nods); and to demand University degrees, the opening of the professions, and the parliamentary franchise for women as well as men? MRS. CLANDON (resolutely). Yes: I have not gone back one inch; and I have educated Gloria to take up my work where I left it. That is what has brought me back to England: I felt that I had no right to bury her alive in Madeira--my St. Helena, Finch. I suppose she will be howled at as I was; but she is prepared for that. McCOMAS. Howled at! My dear good lady: there is nothing in any of those views now-a-days to prevent her from marrying a bishop. You reproached me just now for having become respectable. You were wrong: I hold to our old opinions as strongly as ever. I don't go to church; and I don't pretend I do. I call myself what I am: a Philosophic Radical, standing for liberty and the rights of the individual, as I learnt to do from my master Herbert Spencer. Am I howled at? No: I'm indulged as an old fogey. I'm out of everything, because I've refused to bow the knee to Socialism. MRS. CLANDON (shocked). Socialism. McCOMAS. Yes, Socialism. That's what Miss Gloria will be up to her ears in before the end of the month if you let her loose here. MRS. CLANDON (emphatically). But I can prove to her that Socialism is a fallacy. McCOMAS (touchingly). It is by proving that, Mrs. Clandon, that I have lost all my young disciples. Be careful what you do: let her go her own way. (With some bitterness.) We're old-fashioned: the world thinks it has left us behind. There is only one place in all England where your opinions would still pass as advanced. MRS. CLANDON (scornfully unconvinced). The Church, perhaps? McCOMAS. No, the theatre. And now to business! Why have you made me come down here? MRS. CLANDON. Well, partly because I wanted to see you-- McCOMAS (with good-humored irony). Thanks.